


none but you

by broikawa



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Bad Flirting, Cooking, Developing Relationship, Domestic Fluff, Family Dynamics, Friends to Lovers, Gentle Kissing, Late Night Conversations, Love Confessions, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Minor Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi, Moving In Together, Sexual Humor, Snapshots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-06
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-18 17:40:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29247438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/broikawa/pseuds/broikawa
Summary: the lives of osamu and rintarou, as told through the seasons.or ;; my gift for the sunaosa valentine's exchange !
Relationships: Miya Osamu/Suna Rintarou
Comments: 6
Kudos: 67
Collections: SunaOsa Valentine's Exchange





	none but you

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lunarins](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lunarins/gifts).



> finally ! its here ! my sunaosa exchange fic for hannah <3 <3 <3 keeping this a secret has been hard but its here now!!!
> 
> content warnings:  
> a few mentions of alcohol/drinking (safely!)  
> a few dirty jokes here and there (thank u rin)

“ I almost wish we were butterflies

and liv'd but three summer days— 

three such days with you I could fill with more delight

than fifty common years could ever contain. ”

[ _Selected Love Letters to Fanny Brawne_ ](https://poets.org/text/selected-love-letters-fanny-brawne), John Keats

* * *

_Summer, 2018_

“It feels like the week just started,” Osamu said lamely.

“I know what you mean,” Suna agreed, nearly as weak.

They were at the train station. Suna had his bag around his shoulders, casually holding the strap in one hand and his cellphone in the other. It was far too early in the morning for either of them, and Osamu would’ve complained if he wasn’t feeling so down. The heat stuck to his skin, beading down his arms, and the sun coming in through the large entrance of the station was bright and beating. Osamu wished it was cloudy; it was too nice out for how he was feeling. It was a waste of good weather.

This was always the worst part.

Suna’s train wasn’t due to leave for a while, but there wasn’t enough time to do anything, no time to eat or browse the shops that the station had to offer. They opted to find a vacant wall and stand and wait instead.

A sigh came from Suna’s lips as he turned off his phone, shoving it in the pocket of his hoodie. How he could wear it in the heat, Osamu could barely imagine. “It’s almost time, I think,” he said with an unhappy smile. “I should probably start walking soon.”

“Yeah,” Osamu nodded, “prolly.” He matched his expression. Though he was still standing in front of him, he missed him already. He was, all in all, grateful for every second they got together. A week was longer than some of their visits; often it was only a few days, sometimes a weekend, so he wouldn’t ask for anything more to be satisfied. All week, it had felt like his visit would never end, that Suna would be there forever. Yet, now, standing in the station about to see him off, it felt like he had only just arrived.

The week had been great — they’d spent as much time as they could together in between Osamu’s time at the onigiri shop, but not even that could deter them. During shifts, Suna would find a seat at the bar counter in the corner and Osamu would come over to the other side of the counter and chat when he could. When he couldn’t he’d glance over to check on him anyway, and smile when their eyes would meet. Each smile held more weight than Suna would ever know.

The rest of their time was spent doing anything they could think of. They went out properly one night, both deserving some fun, and walked through the colorful Dotonbori streets, drinking until everything was funny. Osamu liked how carefree Suna got when he was tipsy; more easy smiles, more goofy laughs, how focused he was on being in the moment. As they wandered, there was the wonder in Osamu’s mind if Suna’s high spirits were less the cause of the alcohol in his system and more because he was with him, because they were together. He pushed it down when it came up, though, wanting to focus on the giggly man in front of him.

Wanting to stay out of the sun, there was an afternoon spent at Osaka Aquarium. It had been Osamu’s idea, and, despite the 45 minute train ride it would take to get there, Suna had gladly agreed. They walked around the exhibits, staring in awe at the various animals behind the glass. Osamu was even happier about his choice in activity as they wandered around the maze of tanks. The blue glow of the water on Suna’s face, the way his eyes lit up at the sight of mounds of fish or swarms of stingrays, the way his smile couldn’t be contained when they visited the penguins — it all melted his heart into one big puddle, enough to fill three of those huge tanks.

Osamu’s favourite part of the entire trip was when they did nothing, opting to stay in his flat and lounge on the sofa in front of the fan and the TV, watching whatever they could find to put on. He was hopeless and he knew it, but the sight of Suna in old shorts and a t-shirt that wasn’t his made Osamu’s heart melt more than anything else during the visit. He was so unbarred and comfortable that Osamu had seriously considered saying _fuck it_ and telling him how he felt.

Now, at the station, he wished he had.

_There’s still time_ , he thought. _I could tell him now._

But was that a good idea? Throwing his feelings at Suna before he had to leave, making him sit through a three hour train ride back to Shizuoka with only his thoughts to occupy him? It seemed like an asshole thing to do, and Osamu was almost convinced not to do it.

Almost.

“I really should be going,” Suna said, looking at the time displayed on a large schedule screen. He looked back at Osamu. “Thanks for this, again.”

“‘Course,” he said, avoiding his eyes, “any time.”

“See you.” He turned to leave.

_I could tell him now_. The words rang through his head again, and he couldn’t stop the words from tumbling out of his mouth.

“Sunarin,” he called, “wait a sec.”

Suna turned, now a few steps away from Osamu. He wasn’t sure what he was doing, just that his face was likely red as the Vabo-chan charm dangling from Suna’s bag. He let out a heavy breath and dropped his shoulders, bracing himself to let go of every ounce of anxiety he was feeling for the two seconds it would take to say the words.

“What is it?” Suna said, pressing to get going soon.

Quietly, quiet enough that he questioned whether or not it would be heard, he said, “I like you.”

It had weighed him down all week, the confession constantly on his lips. Out in the city; watching Suna stumble down the sidewalk and lean against him for support. In the aquarium; his eyes widened in awe. In his flat; casual, easy, overwhelmingly intimate. It had all been a pain for Osamu to watch.

Nothing had helped — not the mornings getting ready next to him, or his delicate smile when he noticed Osamu coming towards him from the shop kitchen, or even the unkempt look he had now — his hair half out of place and his sweatshirt burying his torso and the bags under his eyes from the night before, a matching set to Osamu’s own after one last late night of movie watching and long-winded conversation. It had all made it worse, so much worse, showing him what he could have all the time if he just said _something_.

And he had. Somehow. It was easier than he’d thought.

Suna didn’t pretend he didn’t know what it meant.

Rather, he said, “I suspected.”

“ _Hah_?” he blinked, his shoulders dropping. “You knew?”

“It was just a hunch,” he shrugged, “I didn’t know for sure. You’ve been acting kinda different, is all.” His eyes, as he spoke, were directed anywhere but at Osamu.

_He’s uncomfortable_ , he thought, _I shouldn’t have done this._ _Why’d I think this’d be a good idea?_

Osamu asked him, “Since when?”

“The second day.”

A chuckle escaped his lips. “If only,” he admitted quietly, looking at his shoes. “Yer pretty far off, actually.”

“When, then?”

Osamu scratched the back of his head, looking back down. “Third year,” he said. He was sure his face was red as a sunburn.

“Shit, Osamu.” He rubbed a sweaty hand over his face.

“Why didn’t ya say anything?” he asked.

“I wasn’t completely sure,” he said slowly, “and I thought I was just reading you wrong, or something. If I asked you about it, I wanted to be completely sure, especially since I’d probably have to cough up my own feelings for you whether or not you actually liked me back. It could’ve ruined the whole trip.”

_My own feelings for you_.

Osamu looked at him strangely. He could feel the flutter in his heart, a quickening _thump thump thump_ like a rabbit’s foot. This was happening; he was here, and he’d just confessed, and it seemed like he’d just been confessed to right back.

“You like me, then,” was all he could get out.

“Yeah,” he said. He breathed out a laugh; “Hard not to.”

A smile quirked on Osamu’s lips. Suna was looking away now, rocking on the balls of his feet. This was a good thing for Osamu, who figured he might have kissed him if their eyes met. Suna was probably waiting for him to say something first, he figured, so he did.

“Since when?” he asked. “For you?”

His answer was blunt: “Second.”

“ _Sunarin_.”

He let out another chuckle, muttering, “I win,” with an overly-loud, overly-Atsumu-like smirk.

“It’s not a competition, y’know.”

“Yet,” he smiled, looking to his face, “you’re still mad about it.”

There was a delicate pause, half awkward and half giddy with feelings. They giggled at each other, and flustered glances were exchanged in between. There was a chime from the station’s speakers.

Slowly, regretfully, the sad smile returned to Suna’s face. “I should probably go,” he said. “Don’t want to miss it.”

“Right,” Osamu nodded, “yeah. Go. I’ll text you later?”

But Suna was pushing forward instead, pressing a hand to Osaum’s cheek and his lips to the other, quickly, carefully, lightly. The hand was warm and lips gentle. His face, Osamu saw when he pulled away, was flushed thoroughly.

Suna poked him in the side.

“Hey!” he cried, cringing away from him.

“I hate you,” Suna said blandly, yet loving.

“What d’ya mean?” he asked. “Yer the one that kissed me!”

“Should I not have done that?” he teased. His grin was bright and on display — any more of it and Osamu was ready to short-circuit.

“It’s fine,” he said, no hesitation in his voice, “but some warning would’ve been nice. Spare my heart, would ya?”

“Sorry,” he shrugged, “I couldn't help myself. You’re too hot, y’know. You should tone it down.”

“ _Aaand_ the flirting starts immediately.”

“Like you weren’t flirting with me a minute ago.”

Osamu shook his head, barely holding back a smile. “Yer awful.”

“You still like me,” he said. They both knew he was right.

* * *

“ Always, ever always, even in the autumn drear,

When the days are sighing out their grief,

Thou art still my darling, dearest of the dear,

Always, ever always, even in the autumn drear. “

[ _Love’s Seasons_ ](https://www.poetry.com/poem/28788/love's-seasons), Paul Laurence Dunbar

* * *

_Autumn, 2019_

“Hello?” Osamu said, picking up the call blinking on his phone screen.

Suna’s reply was straightforward, daft, bleak: “Hey.”

A call at a later hour like this one wasn’t uncommon for either of them. Dating and living hours away had posed a few challenges over the last year, but they’d done good, whether they called or texted or otherwise. Osamu didn’t mind that he was calling, of course. He’d been home for a few hours, actually taking a lighter shift for once and not being at work from opening hours until closing. He was using his time to get done a few things he’d been putting off; cleaning the bathroom, doing his laundry, and catching up on a show that Gin had been begging him to watch were just a few things on his list. All that was left was to tidy the kitchen, then he could go to bed. That was when, naturally, his phone had started to ring.

The tone was an odd one, and an odd one for Suna to use with Osamu. _He’s quieter than usual_ , he noted to himself. _Is he upset?_ It wasn’t unusual for him to call so late, though it was true that it had been a while since they’d been able to call. The summertime had packed both of their schedules — Osamu with the restaurant as busy as ever, and Suna training for the season that had just begun.

Osamu leaned his arm on his kitchen counter, the phone pressed to his ear. He wasn’t sure which direction to push the conversation. “What’s up?” he tried first.

There was a heavy sigh through the receiver.

Specific emotions tied to the sigh were difficult to pinpoint, though Osamu could tell it was one of neither relief nor content. The minimal amount of words from the other end of the line wasn’t helping. He couldn’t figure out at all what Suna was feeling; it wasn’t like he was a mindreader, but he knew Suna, and he knew him well enough to know that something was off.

“Nothing, really,” Suna told him plainly. It was a clear lie.

“No?” he asked.

“No.”

“Why the call, then?”

Suna breathed out a laugh. “I can’t just call you?” he asked him, a tease. If he wasn’t already skeptical, Osamu might’ve believed him.

He turned around, leaning back on the counter now, his free arm crossed over his chest. “Fair enough,” was all he said. He wasn’t going to push him too much; he decided to let him get there himself.

“What are you up to?” Suna asked, likely to diverge the conversation away from him. He was oddly adept at that, likely due to years of putting the skill to use.

“Goin’ to bed soon,” he told him. “Ya called at a bad time, though. I was gonna shower after I was done in the kitchen.”

“Oh,” Suna said, feeble, “sorry.”

Suna Rintarou was not one to be _feeble_ out of the blue. The apology struck Osamu particularly hard; he definitely wasn’t going to let him off easy. It just wasn’t like Suna to beat around the bush so much. Usually — with Osamu, at least — he’d be whacking the bush right in the thick of it with a baseball bat.

“It’s fine, bub,” Osamu assured, “I’m not gonna be too long.”

Suna was quiet again. Calculating, probably.

“Sunarin?”

“Could you stay on the phone?” he asked. The question was sudden, and it startled Osamu for a half of a second, but it made sense. Somehow.

Stammering out an affirmative and putting away the last of the dishes (and wiping down the counters, and cleaning out the sink… Suna did like to tell him that he gave himself more tasks than necessary), Osamu moved to the bathroom and went through his usual motions. He turned the shower on, undressing and dropping his clothes on the ground. Still, Suna was quiet. On a normal day, he’d likely make some kind of joke about Osamu’s indecency, partly to bug him and partly to flirt.

_Count on him to worry me about him not sayin’ somethin’ about me being naked_ , Osamu thought, stepping under the water.

The call was on speaker phone so Suna could hear the shower going. Neither of them suggested the idea but Osamu figured it was better than him listening to next to nothing for ten minutes. Besides, the sound of running water had always soothed Osamu in some way, and he hoped the same thing was happening with Suna. It was almost comforting knowing that Suna could hear him, that he could hear that he was there. If he were Suna, he’d find it nice. Being there, sort of.

Once he was out of the shower, Osamu ran a quick hand through his damp hair and brushed his teeth, making some noises in the process that he bet Suna didn’t appreciate. He was ready for bed and, despite the shorter than usual day, he felt like he needed it. Upon leaving the bathroom, however, the sound of the shower raining down still emanated through the apartment.

Osamu looked out the window to his balcony. It was, quite literally, raining. It must’ve started while he was washing up. He moved to open the balcony door, checking out how heavy it was falling. There was a covering overhead the deck, but the rain still tended to get on the cushions of his chairs, resulting in an unpleasant, squishy surprise when he sat outside after. Luckily, the rain seemed light, but loud. The night air was cold, too. He realized his lack of dress and quickly closed the door again.

In his bedroom, he dressed, tugging on a T-shirt and a zip-up sweater that Suna had forgotten last time he was over. Pulling on sweatpants, he thought back to the rain outside.

“Sunarin?” Osamu said, checking if he was still awake. He was, as a small hum came through. “Ya don’t mind not goin’ to bed just yet, yeah?”

Suna hummed again. “Just don’t blame me if I pass out,” he told him.

“Course.” He walked back to the balcony and sat down outside. It was much less cold now that he was dressed. The cushions, luckily, were dry.

The night was quiet, spare the usual sounds of the city; faint rumbles of cars, whatever flowed out from his neighbours’ open windows, the voices of those out on the town despite it being a Tuesday night, and, of course, the rain. Osamu liked sitting outside like this. It made him feel less alone without needing to go anywhere, though he did prefer to sit out here with the company of someone else, Suna or Atsumu or otherwise.

“I hope you don’t mind the noise,” Osamu said quietly.

“It’s fine,” Suna told him. His voice was significantly more tired than before.

There was a small stretch of silence before Osamu asked, “What’s goin’ on tonight?”

“I told you,” Suna said, quick to defend, “it’s nothing.”

“You sure? Ya don’t sound great.”

There was no response.

“We don’t have to talk about it if ya don’t wanna,” he told him, “I just wanna know if yer good.” Osamu was considering his words carefully. Suna wasn’t the most resilient person when he was upset, often choosing to shut down when he wasn’t feeling good. It felt like one wrong thing would push him towards that. “Ya sure there’s nothing?”

“I miss you,” Suna admitted dubiously. The confession was plain, though Osamu almost wasn’t surprised by it. It made sense. Somehow. Osamu imagined his face, eyes downwards and half a pout on his lips. He’d probably find it cute, a comment Suna likely wouldn’t appreciate but blush at nonetheless.

“I miss you, too,” he said softly, a careful smile rising to his lips. “Is that what’s been botherin’ you so much?”

“I guess,” he said. He sounded like he was talking through something painfully embarrassing, like a teenager getting caught doing something they shouldn’t have. “I don’t know. It’s stupid.”

“It’s not stupid,” he said. “Yer allowed to miss me.”

“Yeah, I know, it’s just... Tonight hasn’t been great,” he sighed. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“We don’t have to,” Osamu told him again. They resigned to silence, though not the uncomfortable type that had started the call. Osamu’s nerves were calmed, no longer completely worried for Suna’s state, and it seemed to him that Suna’s nerves were calmed, too.

Later, when the rain fell a little heavier, Osamu told him, “Text me next time ya miss me, ‘kay?”

“Why d’you think I called you?” Suna said. Quietly, affectionately, he added, “Dumbass.” Osamu chuckled at that, and he heard a small snort from Suna’s side of the line.

“I’ll come up for a game when I have some time off, ‘kay?” Osamu told him, like he’d said all summer. Unlike the summertime, he really meant it. He would. He was already planning in the back of his mind the purposeful few days he’d take off to do it.

Suna’s voice came back through the phone. “Promise?” he asked. The word hung heavy, a comfortable weight; a hefty snowfall, a full belly, their hands in each other’s. Osamu was sure of his answer.

“Promise.”

It wasn’t long before Suna had fallen asleep.

What started as the two of them sharing the comfortable, intimate sound of the rain pouring down turned into Osamu unknowingly listening to Suna’s careful, sleeping breath. It was then that he decided it was time for him, too, to turn in for the night. He shut the balcony door when he came inside, and turned off the lights.

He laid in his own bed, his cell phone next to his head. If he thought hard enough, he was sure he could imagine it was Suna lying next to him instead. Osamu could hear his easy breathing through his phone’s speaker, and it took another few minutes for himself to fall into a similar state. He hoped, when he woke up, that he’d wake up comfortable, refreshed; he always seemed to sleep better when Suna was sleeping next to him. His presence, after all, soothed him like nothing else could. Faintly, a delicate profession of _Love ya, Rin_ lingered in his mind as he floated off to sleep.

* * *

“ Now winter nights enlarge

This number of their hours;

And clouds their storms discharge

Upon the airy towers.

Let now the chimneys blaze

And cups o'erflow with wine,

Let well-tuned words amaze

With harmony divine. “

[ _Now Winter Nights Enlarge_ ](https://poets.org/poem/now-winter-nights-enlarge), Thomas Campion

* * *

_Winter, 2020_

“Rin,” Osamu shouted from the kitchen, “ya wanna help me with this?”

“Aren’t I banned from helping?” Rintaroun shot back from the bedroom.

It was snowing that day.

It wasn’t a particularly special day — a regular, forgettable, cold December day, if anything. The only thing particularly interesting was the fact that Osamu and Rin were having guests. Only two, Atsumu and Kiyoomi, a small family-like gathering for no other reason than they wanted to. The snow outside came down heavy, roads and cars and buildings buried in a thick layer of white. The genkan was dusted with the stuff, flakes melting on the carpet and Osamu’s discarded boots. He’d stepped out to pick something up from the konbini down the street and came back nearly drenched. The snow was big, but it was also wet. His jacket dripped onto the floor, and his gloves and scarf were laid in front of the heater to dry.

The flat was warm, especially so compared to the outdoors. Rintarou had been consistently warm, seeing as he’d refused Osamu’s offer to come with him. It was fine; the place needed a tidy, anyway.

Now in the kitchen, Osamu dragged out the ingredients he’d need for dinner. He was trying out a new katsu curry recipe he found a few weeks before and never had the chance to try until now. Rintarou entered and, to Osamu’s dismay, made the decision to be a menace; he ruffled his hands in Osamu’s hair.

“What are you doing?” Osamu asked. _I should’ve known this was coming_ , he thought, standing still and accepting his fate.

“You still have snow in your hair,” he told him. Osamu suspected it was a half-truth. When he was finished, Osamu’s hair successfully and thoroughly messed through, he held his arms open. 

Osamu took the hug. “What do you want?” he asked, leaning his cheek against his shoulder.

“Come lay down with me,” Rin muttered. Quieter, with his hands up Osamu’s shirt and over his waist, he added, “you’re cold.”

“I gotta make dinner, they’ll be here soon,” he told him. He pulled his head up, taking a proper look at his boyfriend. There was a pout, and a strategic one at that, stretched across his face. “I’m not gonna lay down with you,” he said again, firmly.

Rin pushed his forehead on Osamu’s shoulder with a groan. “Five minutes?”

_He really thinks that pout of his is gonna make me crack, huh?_ Osamu thought, placing a pity kiss to Rin’s head. _This fucker._

“This won’t take too long, y’know,” he insisted, “and it’ll take less time if ya help.”

Instead, Rintarou turned and made way for the living room, and Osamu watched him go. He turned back to the countertops, staring at the ingredients in front of him. He considered them, considered the dish, the dinner, his brother, the apartment.

The choice to make home in Osaka had been an easy one.

Osamu was already stationed there, already accustomed to his routine. Although, he had been in desperate need for a new place to live. His previous apartment had definitely been functional, but less so livable, and it wasn’t a place he wanted to stay much longer. Besides, it wouldn’t have been enough for the both of them anyway — the bathroom was cramped with just one person and the bedroom wasn’t ideal for two six-foot-plus men like themselves.

Then there was Rintarou.

Moving cities was a big task, big for both of them, and it was an issue that had lingered behind them for months like a ghost. It was always there, but never enough to be able to look it in the eye. Luckily for them, apparitions, though rare, did occur.

“I got an offer from Osaka,” Rin said over the phone, some months ago.

Osamu, who was out back at the restaurant on break, could do nothing but gape. “Yer shittin’ me right now,” he said, hand on his head. “For real?”

“Yeah, for real,” he said. Osamu could hear the smile behind it. “I got it yesterday.”

“Well, are ya gonna take it?” he asked. It was Rintarou’s choice, of course, he knew that. He knew he was happy in Shizuoka and with EJP Raijin, too. But he’d be lying if he said there wasn’t an answer he wanted to hear, one that would pull them closer and make everything a million times easier for the both of them.

Rin hummed. “I think so.”

Through all the excitement, a grave and hysterical thought came to Osamu’s head. “Ya better not be playin’ with ‘Tsumu,” he said with a chuckle. He was only half serious, and while he loved both of them, the image was already giving him half a headache. If Rin asked, it was a headache out of love.

Rin, though, barked out a laugh through the receiver. “No, it’s a different team.” He added, “It’d be kind of funny, though.”

“Yeah, if you two wanted to give me a heart attack or somethin’! Knowin’ the two of you, though, it’d be Atsumu gettin’ beaten to a pulp with how much ya tease him.”

“I don’t tease him that bad,” Rin said. His words were futile — they both knew it was a lie.

“Can’t even imagine what you’d do to that couch of theirs,” Osamu quipped.

“Push him to the brink, probably,” he laughed. “He’d last a week, max.”

Laughter died down eventually, and Rin was coy when he spoke again. “I guess,” he said, “this means I’m moving down there.”

Osamu felt his heart swell in his chest at the words, the thoughts, the possibilities. He knew it would take a while, months at the least, but he wanted it, wanted it fast. He had no patience when it came to Rin — he wanted, wanted, wanted. Too much of him was never enough, and the thought of having him every single day was enough to make his head go dizzy with fervor.

And now he was cooking dinner, their dinner, in their apartment. They had a place of their own. For two months this had been their life, and it felt like it would be their life for much, much longer. Something warm flickered in his chest.

Coming out of his reminiscence, Osamu returned to the task at hand, finding and preparing and washing the rice before putting it in the rice cooker. He pushed the button to start it before peaking out at the living room to see how Rin was managing. He had a large, plush shark in his arms, looking at the couch as if deciding where to put it down.

“What are you doing?” Osamu asked him, eyes on the shark. “Go put him in the bedroom.”

Rintarou turned and looked at him, an offended expression growing on his face. “He can go on the couch,” he said, adamant.

“He can go on the bed,” he said again, coming up to him.

Rin put a sarcastic hand to his chest. “What?” he gasped, overly dramatic as he could manage, “So he can watch the unsightly things we’re gonna do later? Not a chance.”

“Yer full of shit,” he said, putting his arms over Rin’s shoulders. “And I think he’s seen a lot of unsightly things, considering ya like keepin’ him in bed and cuddlin’ him instead of me.”

“You love me,” he countered.

“Enough to drop a whole ¥2,000 on this guy, it seems.” The shark stayed in his hands, but Rin moved his arms around Osamu’s waist, pulling him closer. It was half a hug, their bodies pressed together warmly, fondly. Osamu’s lips curled upwards, his nose ghosting over Rin’s.

It was an enormous, quiet moment.

“What’re you thinking about?” Rin asked.

Osamu considered the question, wondering if he could even translate his feelings into words. “We have an apartment,” he tried.

It seemed to be enough to get his point across — Rin bit back his own smile. “Yeah, we do.”

“We have an apartment _together_ ,” he added.

“Mhm,” he hummed, a full grin spread across his face, “we do.”

Rin’s lips were soft against his. They always were. He kissed him again, then once more, and he couldn’t seem to find the desire to stop. There was a tug at his hips, and a hand on Rin’s face, and the sound of the shark plush dropping to the floor, forgotten to the embrace. Rin pulled them backwards to the couch — maybe the shark would have to watch unsightly things go down anyway, regardless of whether or not he was in the bedroom.

Before they could find their way down to the cushions, there was a buzz.

Osamu pulled his lips from Rintarou’s, who pulled them back for a few last kisses. “They’re always right on time, huh?” he giggled as Rin resigned to putting small kisses on his cheek and jaw.

“We don’t have to let them in,” he said in between pecks. Osamu was almost convinced.

“C’mon,” he said, pulling away. “We can save this for later, ‘kay?”

Rintarou sat down on the couch as Osamu opened the door to Atsumu and Kiyoomi, both thoroughly dusted with the snow. Atumu pushed through the door like he lived there.

“It’s fuckin’ freezin’ out there!” he said, shoving off his sneakers — they were completely soaked through — and pulling off his socks — also soaked, thanks to the sneakers — and putting on a pair of the slippers that Osamu and Rin kept at the door.

“Hello to you, too,” Osamu said, watching him struggle with his jacket. “Hi, Kiyoomi.”

Kiyoomi nodded. “Hi,” he said. “I apologize for him.”

Osamu waved him off. “Used to it.”

“Oi!” Atsumu said, “You were complainin’, too, Omi-kun!”

“You’re the one you thought it’d be a good idea to wear sneakers out in that,” Kiyoomi gave him back.

There was a hand on Osamu’s shoulder; Rin came to the door to greet their guests. “You wanna deal with these two,” Osamu said over their bickering about the weather, “while I work on dinner?”

“Got it,” Rin nodded. Osamu waddled back to the kitchen.

The three managed their way to the living room as Osamu chopped vegetables, letting himself fall into the motions that felt like therapy if nothing else. The affectionate feeling in his heart came back as he moved around the kitchen, listening to Rintarou and Atsumu bug each other about what happened during a recent practice match against their two teams. Kiyoomi gave his commentary and, to Atsumu’s dismay, took Rintarou’s side just to bug him.

They were adults, now — real, proper, boring adults who had dinner parties because they felt like it, the sort they’d roll their eyes at as teenagers, grimacing at the guests their parents had invited over. But this felt good. This felt right.

Osamu put a pan on the stove and turned on the burner, proceeding easily with his regular, forgettable, cold December day.

* * *

“ I think that we must have loved each other all our lives,

and that each succeeding spring was a word in the revelation of that love,

not to be understood until, in the fullness of time,

the whole sentence was written out in that most beautiful of all beautiful springs. “

[ _Further Chronicles of Avonlea_ ](https://www.goodreads.com/quotes/54364-it-was-in-the-spring-that-josephine-and-i-had), L.M. Montgomery

* * *

_Spring, 2021_

“You did good today,” Osamu said, hands in his coat pockets, protecting them from the cold.

“Thanks for comin’ out,” Atsumu said in return.

“You were all right,” Rintarou teased.

Osamu chuckled, sharing a look of _can you believe these two?_ with Kiyoomi as Atsumu and Rintarou bickered one last time for the night. They were outside a restaurant, the other Black Jackals inside still celebrating their tournament win. Atsumu and Kiyoomi had come outside to say a proper goodbye to Osamu and Rin.

“I can’t believe yer leavin’ me already,” Atsumu said to his brother. “Yer gettin’ old.”

“I’m goin’ home, not dying” he told him, “and yer ten minutes older.”

“C’mon, ‘Samu, I’m just sayin’” he gripped — he was clearly tipsy; Osamu could see it 100 kilometers away, “I just took home the final game and yer leaving before nine?”

“ _We_ ,” Kiyoomi corrected. “ _We_ took it home.”

He waved him off. “Ya know what I mean,” he said, and Kiyoomi shook his head, knowing he would be K.O.’d by Atsumu’s half-tipsy logic if he kept talking. Atsumu turned back to Osamu. “Whatever. Just don’t die on the way, or somethin’.”

“I’ll try my best.”

Rintarou, next to him, leaned in closer. Osamu looked at him properly, noting the sleep forming across his expression. If he was tired from the long day or the aftermath of a delicious, filling meal, Osamu didn’t know. Either way, they were both ready to head home.

“See ya later,” he said, giving Atsumu one last slap to the shoulder.

Atsumu pulled him into a proper hug. Osamu sighed into it — he always got like this after a drink or two, even more affectionate than he was sober. Osamu didn’t mind it too much. “Yer still old,” Atsumu told him.

“Fuck off, would ya?” he said, half in affection.

“Anythin’ for you, dear brother.”

Saying final goodnights to Atsumu and Kiyoomi, they began their way to the station. With Rintarou quiet, Osamu had time to ponder when he would pull out the night’s last bit of excitement. Somehow, years later, Osamu recognized the feeling in his chest like an old friend; giddiness bubbling in his chest and hands, the weight in his pocket dragging him down to the sidewalk and making him stay until he said what he wanted to say. His thoughts were trained on every bit of the scene; where he would do it, how he would do it, what he would say, what Rin would say. The number of words from his first grand profession to Rintarou to this one had changed from three to four, but it felt like an exponential leap. These words felt infinitely bigger than the first three.

With the station in view, Rin had yet to speak. Doubt creeped up in Osamu’s mind — _he’s too tired, don’t do it tonight, it can just wait —_ but he pushed it down. He was going to do this, _he was_. He let out a breath.

“Yer quiet,” he said, starting up their conversation.

Idly, Rin kicked at a pebble. “Mm, just tired.”

“They’re all just balls of excitement, huh?” Osamu chuckled. “The team, I mean. Even Kiyoomi was pretty energized. More than he usually is, anyway.”

“Mhm,” Rin hummed.

They reached the station. It was past the nightly rush of people getting off work and going home, leaving the place only vaguely occupied by others. Stepping inside, barely in the doors, Osamu stopped walking, and it took Rin a moment to notice.

He looked back at him. “What?” he asked Osamu.

“Rin,” Osamu said plainly.

“Osamu,” Rintarou said back.

_This is fine_ , Osamu thought, looking back at Rin’s expectant face. _I can do this_. He stepped forward, Rintarou meeting him in the middle. “There’s, uh,” he started, questioning every word that passed his lips. “There’s something I wanna tell ya.”

A curious and cautious expression came to Rin’s face, and Osamu was quick to clear it up. He pulled the both of them closer to a wall.

“It’s nothing bad,” he assured, “just… important.”

“Important?”

He gave him a firm nod.

His hand was already in his pocket.

His fingers were wrapped around the small box, the one he’d bought weeks ago and hadn’t had the courage to bring out until tonight. It hadn’t been his intention to do this at the station–a somewhat romantic irony that he almost appreciated — but he had to do it now or he wouldn’t be able to do it at all. He knew the proposal wouldn’t be some grandiose event — the both of them were too straightforward for that sort of thing — but he wanted it, at the very least, to be special.

Or, as special as a train station would be.

“Osamu,” Rin said again. “You’re barely breathing. Just tell me; you don’t need to be so nervous.”

Rin’s smile was assuring. He breathed out a laugh, trying to expel his nerves. “Right,” he said, “right.” Tighter was his hand around the box as he looked at Rin’s face, preparing himself one final time. “I don’t really know what I’m doin’,” he started, “but I figured now’s as good a time as any. I, uh… Lemme just–”

He pulled his hand out of his pocket, Rin’s eyes widening at the sight of what was in his hand. Carefully, he opened it.

“I think you can guess what I’m gonna ask,” he said, showing him the box. Rintarou’s eyes were trained down at his hands at the ring, his lips parted in surprise. Osamu waited for him to speak. Instead, he met his eyes and reached into his own coat.

“Oh, you’ve gotta be kidding me,'' Osamu laughed, eyes landing on what Rintarou pulled out. He held out his own box for Osamu to open.

“I wasn’t planning this,” he told him. They were both beaming now. Osamu examined this ring — it had a large stone in the middle and two smaller ones on either side. His had been much simpler — a single stone, with tiny ones lining the outside of the band.

“I didn’t think ya were,” he said. He looked between the boxes before meeting Rin’s eyes again. “I’m guessin’ this means yer sayin’ yes?”

“Yeah,” he said, taking back his box from Osamu, “I am.”

Osamu held his own band out to him. “May I?”

“Such a gentleman,” he muttered, giving him his hand.

His hand was shaking as he fit the ring on Rin’s finger. There had not been a moment in his life where he had felt as happy as he did now. He felt like a teenager with a crush — giddy at any shared glance, shaken by every shared touch. It was overwhelming in the best way possible. Rintarou had been a part of his life for so long and he was going to be a part of his life for so much longer and Osamu couldn’t wait for it.

Once both were exchanged, Osamu looked between their hands. He considered them. “The one you got is nicer than mine.”

“Yours is nice,” Rin told him. “I like yours.”

“Yours is still nicer,” he said again. “You’re so much better at this than I am.”

Rintarou posed a much smaller question. “How long have you had it?”

“A few weeks,” he said, “maybe three months or so?”

He snorted.

“What?” Osamu asked.

“Five months,” he said. “I bought mine just after we moved in. I win.” He grinned up at him boastfully, but Osamu could sense the affection behind it.

“Everything’s a competition with ya, ain’t it?”

Rintarou leaned his head on his shoulder. The gesture was awkward, seeing as Rin was much taller than he was, but they both appreciated it nonetheless. Instinctively, Osamu kissed his hair.

“Rin?” he said.

“Hm?”

“I love ya,” he muttered. “I hope ya know that.”

Rintarou shoved a lazy hand against his chest. “You goof,” he said, hand falling and finding its way into Osamu’s, “of course I know. I love you, too.”

He’d kissed Rintarou an endless number of times, but it always warmed him how comfortably his lips fit against his, how naturally their noses knew where to go, how familiar the feeling was. So much about Rintarou was familiar to Osamu — how his hips felt under his hands, the freckles on his back, the warmth of his skin, how freezing his feet were against his legs when they laid in bed (which Osamu didn’t completely appreciate, though it was oddly comforting nonetheless). His awful cursing habits, the mop that was his hair in the mornings, every shade of brown found in his irises. The occasional humming from the shower. Apartment cleaning sessions that turned into dance parties. His arms around his waist as he stood at the stove.

And, now, the weight of the ring on his finger.

So much time had passed with Rintarou at his side, and Osamu would never have enough time to express just how he made him feel.

“Hey,” Rin said, waving a hand in front of his face. “Stop that.”

“Stop what?”

“You’ve got this stupid, dopey smile on your face,” he told him. “What’re you thinking about?”

“You,” he said simply.

Rin pushed forwards again, taking a kiss from the corner of his mouth. “Fucking sap.”

“Ya better get used to it, then,” he teased, holding up the hand donning the ring.

Rin poked him in the side.

“Ya wanna head home now?” Osamu asked, and Rin nodded.

Quietly, hands linked, they made their way to the platform. They got on the train when it arrived, and got off at their stop. They walked to their building. They unlocked their door, spilling inside.

_Home_. A breath of relief, a comforting exhale, as always.

Falling into a still, sleepy rhythm, they prepared themselves for a wind-down session in front of the TV. Osamu looked down at his ring again as he changed out of his clothes. He couldn’t keep his eyes off of it.

They would make their way to many more platforms. They would get on and off many more trains, walk to their building, unlock their door. Time would pass, but home was a constant. They were a constant, both of them, to each other. Rin wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon, and Osamu didn’t see himself anywhere but right next to him.

But they could worry about the future when they got there. For now, there was tonight. That was enough for him.

* * *

" You pierce my soul. I am half agony, half hope ... I have loved none but you. "

[ _Persuasion_ ](https://www.goodreads.com/quotes/6766-i-can-listen-no-longer-in-silence-i-must-speak), Jane Austen

**Author's Note:**

> the funniest thing will always be becoming friends with hannah after getting her as a giftee and knowing i've been writing this fic for her the whole time we've been talking. hannah ilu
> 
> follow me places !  
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/sonokeiji_) | [tumblr](https://etherealparrish.tumblr.com/)


End file.
